Loss
by lesbianpapyrus
Summary: Papyrus is reminded that he doesn't have to suffer loss alone. Implied past character death.


Rain beat harshly against the windows of Papyrus's house.

The skeleton lay curled up on the couch in the spot his brother usually sat in. Aside from the deluge of raindrops outside, the house was silent.

Too silent.

No irritating trombone noises coming from Sans' room. No Papyrus yelling at Sans to pick up his socks. No annoying dog yapping incessantly as Sans egged it on.

Papyrus would have done anything to hear the yapping again.

Just as he had the thought, he heard the vague sound of barking outside, and he started only slightly as the front opened and slammed closed. The pitter-patter of wet paws and the clop of high-heeled shoes filled the hallway.

"Papy?"

Papyrus did not answer the voice; he only curled up into himself further, facing into the cushions.

The paws and shoes made their way through the kitchen into the carpeted living room. Something jumped up onto the couch and wriggled its way into his arms, and he felt a hand on his back.

"Papy, I know you're not sleeping."

Papyrus still ignored the voice. Instead he gently stroked the ears of the little white dog that was now nuzzling his jaw, whining softly.

The voice sat heavily on the other side of the couch, just next to Papyrus's feet, and laid a hand on his leg. "Sweetheart… I just came to check on you. You won't answer my texts or Undyne's, and no one else has heard from you for a couple of days, either."

"Nothing to hear about," mumbled Papyrus. He glanced up at his boyfriend, then looked away. "I'm fine."

"You're petting that dog without yelling at it to get off the couch. I'd say you're anything but fine." Mettaton squeezed the leg slightly and stroked the bone with his thumb. "And that's okay… a loss like this is hard."

"He isn't gone." Papyrus's voice was suddenly loud and clear. "He's not. He'll come home tonight—and—and—I'll have to scold him for being away too long again."

Mettaton's face became pained. "You don't believe that."

"I do! I do." The skeleton's voice broke. "I—I have to. If he—if he doesn't—" He swallowed. "I don't know what I'll do."

Mettaton took Papyrus's hand and gently pulled him up until he was leaning against him. The robot embraced him, leaning his cheek against his skull. "It's going to be alright," he whispered. "But we have to accept what's happened first."

"It's my fault," Papyrus breathed, clutching desperately at the crook of Mettaton's shoulder. "It's all my fault—his whole life, I pushed him—I pushed him too hard—he never would have gotten so sick if I hadn't—"

"Hush, Papy. None of it was your fault," interrupted Mettaton sharply. Then he softened. "It's just survivor's guilt. These things just happen, Papy. From the beginning, Sans just didn't have the ability to live a full life span."

"He deserved more." Papyrus struggled to hold back tears. "He deserved so much more. He didn't deserve me."

"No one deserves you, sweetheart. You're too good." Mettaton sighed. "You were the best brother you could be."

"I—all I did was call him messy and lazy and yell at him about puns and make him work!" The skeleton's voice rose in hysteria. "I was irritable and impatient and—" A tear trickled down his cheekbone. "I wouldn't be surprised if he hated me."

"Papyrus." Mettaton tilted his jaw to meet his eyes. "He loved you. He loved you like he loved nobody else. _You_ were the light of his life—not Grillby, not Toriel, not Frisk, _you."_ He paused. "Well, I suppose Grillby was the _literal_ light of his life…"

Despite himself, Papyrus smiled. "I was just thinking he'd make a joke like that if he were here."

"Well, darling… maybe it's cliché, but I think he _is_ still here." Mettaton laid a hand on Papyrus's chest. "He'll live on in your heart as long as you remember him."

Papyrus settled into the robot's arms, calmed.

"And anyway," continued Mettaton soothingly, "I don't think he'd have lasted nearly as long as he did without you. I doubt he ever would have seen the surface if you hadn't been there to keep him going. You kept him functioning, you know," he smiled. "He wouldn't have taken care of himself at all if you hadn't kept nagging him."

Papyrus absentmindedly stroked the dog, which he was still holding in his arms. The dog whined and reached up to lick the tears from his face. Papyrus made a face and pushed it down. "That's disgusting, silly dog," he grumbled. Then he sighed. "I suppose you miss him, too. He did love to feed you."

"We all miss him, Papy," Mettaton stressed. "And we miss you, too. Everyone wants to see you again and make sure you're alright."

Papyrus took a deep breath. "I guess Sans wouldn't want me to hole up for the rest of my life… it's just…" He looked tearfully around the dark living room. "I'm afraid that if I leave… I won't want to come back. Not if he isn't here."

Mettaton kissed his forehead. "It's alright, sweetheart. Toriel said you were welcome to stay with her. And of course, you could always live with me if you prefer. We can just move all your things out when you're ready."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready," whispered Papyrus.

"That's okay, too." Mettaton stroked his cheekbone. "You don't have to know anything. We'll just take everything as it comes." His face grew more sober. "But I really don't think you should stay here alone anymore. When you lose someone this important to you… you have to remind yourself that everyone else is still here for you."

Papyrus nodded, tears cascading. "Okay. Okay, I just—I just need t-to—"

Mettaton held him close as Papyrus finally allowed himself to cry without inhibition. Inside his heart, he apologized for every nitpick, complaint, and insult he'd given to his brother. He whispered every good thing he'd never expressed. And he said the goodbyes he'd never gotten a chance to say.

Finally, he pulled back, wiping the last of the tears from his face. "I'm ready to go."

Together, he and Mettaton walked to the door. Mettaton put a coat over his shoulders as Papyrus refused to drop the little white dog to pull on the sleeves.

As they exited the house, Papyrus saw that the rain had stopped, and the tiniest glimmer of sunlight was beginning to shine through the clouds.

 **oooooooooo**

A/N: I wrote this back in February after my grandmother died because I needed an outlet for my emotions. This was the result. Figured I'd go ahead and post it here.


End file.
